Over My Dead Body (Detective William Warwick #4)(78)

Ross hovered behind a desk on the far side of the banking hall, picked up a Biro and began filling in a form to open a savings account while they both waited for the manager to arrive.

A tall, smartly dressed man appeared a few moments later. It wasn’t difficult for him to work out which was the irate customer who had demanded to see him.

‘How can I help you, sir?’ he asked politely.

‘Are you the manager?’ said Pugh, unable to hide his surprise.

‘I am, sir. Mr Joubert,’ he said, offering his hand. Pugh ignored it.

‘My name is Clive Pugh and your bank has just caused me some considerable embarrassment.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir,’ said the manager. ‘Perhaps you would like to discuss this matter in the privacy of my office?’

‘I don’t need to be patronized by you, Joubert. All I want to know is why my credit card was rejected.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to come to my office and talk about the problem?’

‘There isn’t a problem,’ said Pugh, almost shouting. ‘An explanation and an apology is the least I expect if you want to keep your job.’

Ross noticed that he was no longer the only person in the banking hall who was taking an interest in the encounter between the two men.

‘I’m afraid,’ said the manager, almost whispering, although everyone could hear his words, ‘your account is well over its limit, so I was left with no choice.’

‘Then I am also left with no choice,’ said Pugh, ‘other than to transfer my account to another bank. I expect you to have all the necessary paperwork ready when I return tomorrow.’

‘As you wish, sir. May I ask when that might be convenient?’

‘It will be convenient when it suits me,’ said Pugh. ‘It’s clear to me that you boys aren’t yet ready to do a man’s job.’

Ross was about to break another golden rule and knock out the person he was meant to be shadowing, and might have done so if Pugh hadn’t turned on his heel and marched out of the bank.

Ross followed him onto the street, but lost him when it became clear he was returning to the hotel. He couldn’t wait to hear his version of events over dinner that evening.

? ? ?

‘If Ross isn’t back in time for our meeting tomorrow,’ said Juan, as the three of them sat around the kitchen table after dinner, enjoying a second bottle of wine, ‘I’m going to have to call the whole operation off. We won’t even reach Faulkner’s front door without him.’

‘He’ll be back in time,’ said William, sounding more confident than he felt.

‘Let’s hope so,’ said Juan, ‘because my boss won’t allow me to hang around on the off-chance he’ll turn up. We’ve got enough of our own criminals to deal with, I can hear him reminding me.’

‘Sounds just like The Hawk,’ said Beth.

‘Cut from the same cloth,’ said Juan, ‘if that’s the correct English expression.’

‘How come your English is so good, Juan?’ Beth asked.

‘My mother married a Welshman, and he lost the toss. However, he still thinks the only saint is David, the only flower a daffodil, and the only game rugby.’

Beth smiled, and asked innocently, ‘If Ross does turn up in time for your meeting in the morning, does that mean William will be going back to Barcelona?’

‘What makes you think I’ve ever been to Barcelona?’ said William, grinning.

‘A plane ticket was the first clue, even more pesetas were the second, and Juan coming to stay with us finally clinched it.’

‘Ignore her,’ said William in a stage whisper.

‘If you don’t feel able to answer my question,’ said Beth, pouring her guest another glass of wine, ‘perhaps I can ask you, Juan, if you’ve actually seen Fishers of Men.’

‘A planted question,’ interrupted William. ‘Trying to draw you in without admitting how little she actually knows. Just ignore her, and she’ll eventually give up.’

‘Yes, I have seen it,’ admitted Juan. ‘But, sadly, I was distracted, and didn’t have much time to appreciate it.’

‘Distracted by its would-be owner, perhaps?’ asked Beth, still fishing.

Both men were silenced for a moment, until William said, ‘Let’s just say that Faulkner had even less chance to appreciate it than Juan. And, sadly, I doubt if any of us will ever set eyes on it again.’

‘Unless, of course, you two resourceful gentlemen manage to arrest Faulkner and put him back behind bars where he belongs. In which case, with the help of my close friend Christina, the Fitzmolean may yet get its hands on the masterpiece, and you’ll be able to return and admire it without fear of being interrupted.’ Neither Juan nor William responded, but Beth didn’t give up. ‘Which would at least make up for you two preventing the museum from being able to borrow Frans Hals’ The Flute Player, which I suspect was in the same house.’

‘Clever woman, your wife,’ was Juan’s only comment.

‘You don’t know the half,’ said William. ‘Just wait until breakfast tomorrow, when you’ll meet Artemisia.’

? ? ?

Just as William was heading upstairs to bed, the phone rang. He picked it up to hear James Buchanan’s unmistakable Boston accent on the other end of the line.